


Windows of the Soul

by booboo45



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 15:43:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6664582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booboo45/pseuds/booboo45
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Clarke has spent a couple of weeks seeing an athletic brunette run past her living room window and she decides to put on a show of her own to get the brunette's attention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Windows of the Soul

Clarke had a routine. Well, she was too much of a free spirit to actually have a set routine, but it was at the very least the framework of a routine. She would wake up in the morning, get ready, head to work, come back home, make dinner, eat dinner, paint by the window, watch TV and then go to sleep. That was at least what she liked to think that she did. In reality, it was more like living life within the current minute and kind of seeing what happened. Though, the one thing that she didn’t compromise with was painting. Even when she came home exhausted after a long shift at the hospital, she would make the time to sit by her easel by the window and let herself be inspired by the setting sun. Or the rising sun, depending on the time of day she finally got home. For the past couple of weeks, she had much preferred the second kind.

The first time she saw her, she had just come off a 14-hour shift followed by a night shift. She had brought home breakfast from the diner at the corner of her building as she usually did after a nightshift and she wished that was the only thing that she had brought home. Instead, she had also carried with her a layer of grime due to which the car ride was made uncomfortable as she tried to avoid leaning against any surfaces. In sore need of being clean once again, she had taken a shower and scrubbed herself profusely to get the layer off.

It had been a crash-on-the-couch-and-do-nothing kind of morning so when she exited the shower she had intended to do just that. But then she had caught the red tinted sun as it had made its ascent onto the sky and the sparse clouds that had surrounded it. She had little to no say in when inspiration decided to strike and, boy, had it struck her.

With a fresh canvas placed on her easel, she had taken a seat in front of it and began painting. A burst of color had made its way onto the canvas and she dipped her paintbrush into the red paint to add even more. As she did so, she took a moment to gaze out the window beside her. People were already milling about the streets of Polis and going about their day, despite how early in the morning it was.

It was a high-speed figure in a flurry of brown hair, green top and black yoga pants that had caught her eye that morning. She had brought the paintbrush to her mouth and started to chew on its end as the figure moved closer to her window and eventually passed it. Clarke hadn’t seen much of the woman other than her figure but based on that she had been certain that the girl was just as attractive as her body and movements had suggested. It was the kind of event that just kind of happened and then she would move on. That was how it usually was; not much usually came of sightings of attractive people and it didn’t have to. Clarke could appreciate the work of art that was a person without making much more of it.

But then she had seen her again, and again. She had seen her six times since that morning two weeks ago; whenever she finished work in the morning, the girl sped past her window at around seven like clockwork. The last time she had seen her, Clarke was fairly certain that she had noticed her glancing in her direction. Thus, the seeds for today’s plan were planted.

It wasn’t a complex plan in any sense of the word, it was more of a gift back as compensation for the displays of physical fitness that Clarke had enjoyed.

At ten minutes to seven, she began throwing discrete glances out the window as she waited for the lady in the yoga pants to show up.

When the bouncing, brown ponytail appeared in the distance, Clarke made sure that the curtains were completely opened and took position nearby the front door. She had to time it perfectly or else she would waste the show that she had planned. How long did it usually take for the girl to make it to her window? Apparently, being entranced by a person’s lithe movements made it difficult to keep any sense of time; who would have thought?

To hell with it, she was just going to do it and either the girl saw her or she didn’t.

Clarke moved closer to the window, swaying her hips confidently, as she slowly started lifting her scrub top off. When it was halfway off, and with that progress Clarke’s excitement over her devious plan was ever increasing, there was a loud honk right outside her window, the sound of brakes shrieking followed by a crash. 

She fought to untangle herself from the scrub top and when she finally did she put the damn thing back on and hurried to see what had happened and how she could help.  


There was a big commotion outside her apartment building, people had gathered around what she assumed was the scene of the accident.

She started to squeeze past the throng of people, “Excuse me, I’m a doctor. Let me pass,” she said repeatedly as she made her way to the site in question.  


In the middle of the crowd was a car and in front of that car was the girl with the brown hair. Oh god, had the accident been her fault?

Her doctorly ways kicked in quickly and overpowered the shock. She approached the girl and said, “Hello, my name is Clarke and I’m a doctor. Are you in pain?”

The girl looked up at her and there was a moment of recognition and a subsequent blush on her face. Well, now there was no way around it, it had been her fault. “I’m fine. I have a few scrapes and I’ll probably be enjoying a bruise or two in the near future, but otherwise I’m fine.” She smiled at Clarke and green. The color of her eyes was green.

“What’s your name?” Was it wrong to flirt with a stranger after almost causing her death? Whether it was or not, Clarke couldn’t care less because the stranger was smiling at her and her green eyes, a shifting green that had now taken on a forest-like tint, were smiling at her and Clarke needed to know.

“Lexa.”

“Hi, Lexa. I’m Clarke.”

“You already said that.”

“Oh, did I? Maybe I wasn’t in an accident, but I might be the one with a concussion.”

“Either way, Clarke, it’s a name worth repeating.” Lexa offered a shy smile and Clarke couldn’t help but think that her plan worked out pretty well all things considered.


End file.
